


Forever Lullaby

by melodycanta



Series: Independence [5]
Category: Uta no Prince-sama
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-06-14 07:29:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,071
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15383727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melodycanta/pseuds/melodycanta
Summary: 「君が笑ってる そう それだけで / 嬉しくて Forever You are My Smile」"Just the sound of your laughter / Makes me happy; forever, you are my smile"Even if one of them falls, they know the other will be there to pick them back up again.





	1. Joker Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Idk how to tag this, so if I've missed anything or my rating is too low, let me know, because this is definitely my first time on this side of the map. 
> 
> This is way outside of my normal comfort zone and unlike anything else I've written, so heads up that it may not be fantastic, but I'm giving it a whirl.
> 
> Title and lyrics taken from the Mamoru Miyano song Forever Lullaby. The translation of the lyrics is a definite approximation, and I spent approximately 2 seconds doing it, so I wouldn't take it as definitive.
> 
> This was technically written as post-Independence, but you really don't have to know anything about it; just know that they're both of age and consenting adults, and I think we'll be good.

It doesn’t surprise Otoya when Tokiya stumbles through the doorway at a quarter to three in the morning, his eyes only half open as he blinks away the sleep in his eyes. It’s the last night of the Joker Trap performances, and any performance with Ranmaru always ends the final night helping the crew break down the set, because their silver-haired senior insists that they took part in it, so they should help clean up (incidentally, this also always causes an argument with Camus on what is below them as idols, so Ranmaru himself never does too much of the cleaning up). It’s a good thought, but Otoya has been watching his boyfriend of two years push himself during these performances, so spending an extra five hours breaking down the set seems like overkill.

Tokiya’s eyes blink hard at the lamp as he scans over the room, trying to figure out the reason why it’s on, and Otoya stands to help him out. “You’re still up,” he says, although he’s so tired that it comes out as a slurred garble.

“Welcome home,” Otoya says and strides over to kiss him and shut the door at the same time. It never matters how tired Tokiya is, he never skimps on the affection he shows during their kisses, and Otoya can’t help the fond smile that spreads over his lips. Tokiya is _so_ dear to him, even with how he pushes himself past his breaking point almost constantly in the pursuits of perfection. “Come on.”

He helps Tokiya out of his shoes and then leads him into the bathroom with one hand, helping him peel off his layers of clothing before sending him into the shower area. From there, Otoya removes the keys and phone from his jacket pocket, setting them on Tokiya’s nightstand where they sit every night, and then throws the sawdust-laden, dusty clothes in the laundry hamper. He knows from experience that Tokiya won’t relax if he sees them still on the floor, and that’s the only thing that has stopped him from stripping off his own clothing and joining him in the shower, which he promptly does now that the necessities have been done.

Tokiya is sitting on the stool, showering himself off, and he at least looks over at Otoya when he enters, so he must be a little more awake with the water on him. Otoya takes the showerhead from him, dousing his boyfriend once he makes sure that the water is warm (Tokiya has been known to wake himself up with cold showers before when he is tired, which is contrary to what Otoya is aiming for). Once his hair is soaked, he takes some of his own shampoo and lathers it up in his hands before working it through Tokiya’s hair. There is always gel and hairspray in his hair, but the stylists have been pushing Tokiya’s bangs back for Joker Trap, and they are stiff with the product. 

Tokiya gives a hum and leans his head back to look at Otoya with tired eyes. “You don’t have to do this, you know,” he murmurs.

“I know. But I want to!” He knows that the enthusiasm in his voice will make Tokiya smile, and he looks in the mirror just in time to see the soft expression before it fades back into exhaustion. 

Otoya rinses the lavender-scented shampoo away, giving his scalp a few extra scratches just to hear the delighted sighs his boyfriend makes. He hates it when Tokiya pushes himself like this, but he does love how pliant and open he becomes afterwards. He doesn’t have to push for the tiny noises that slip through Tokiya’s lips and there are no inhibitions that keep him from snuggling up and purring his contentment.

He washes Tokiya’s body next and once he’s clean, helps him over to sit in the tub before showering off himself. He’s mostly clean from his own bath earlier, but Tokiya will never let him hear the end of it if the bathtub is dirty in the morning. He contemplates using Tokiya’s mint shampoo to keep their bottles even, but decides against it because he knows that tired Tokiya likes to bury his head in his neck and he doesn’t want the sharp scent to wake him up. 

By the time he finishes, Tokiya is sprawled out in the bathtub, his eyelids fluttering closed as he fights sleep. Otoya taps his shoulder to get him to scoot forward before easing himself behind his boyfriend. “How was the performance?” he asks, because he knows that if they don’t talk in the bath, Tokiya will doze off. 

“It was fine. Last performance.” Tokiya waves his hand in a dismissive gesture as he leans back against Otoya. “Ren’s still an ass.”

“What did he do now?”

Tokiya stifles a yawn with the back of his hand. “Flirted with everything that moves.”

“Isn’t that normal?”

“And then he pulled us into it.”

Otoya has to hold back his chuckle. “How?”

“It was his turn to give the closing speech, and he invites some girl onto the stage with us and says something about how we’ve found our Lady Luck tonight. And then he pushes the poor girl towards me like I’m supposed to _do_ something.”

Improvisation has never been Tokiya’s strong suit, and Otoya knows it, but he can also imagine the terrified expression on his boyfriend’s face as he gets passed this woman, and he has to hide his smile against Tokiya’s shoulder to keep from laughing out loud at the mental image. “What did you do?”

“I said something; I don’t even think what I said made any sense, but I said something and then I pushed her at Kurosaki-san way harder than I meant to. And, well, you know Kurosaki-san and women.”

“He didn’t drop her, did he?!”

Tokiya snorts. “I think he and Camus-san might have had an actual fist fight on stage if he had. No, he caught her a second too late and it looked to the rest of us like he meant to dip her, but then he just told her to be more careful.”

“Ooh, missed opportunity.”

“That’s what the audience thought too. And Ren, of course. So . . .”

“Oh no.”

Otoya can hear the little huff Tokiya makes through his clenched teeth. “He leads her to the middle of the stage and sits her down on this chair he has the crew bring out, and then we all have to stay in character as we thank her for being our lady of luck tonight. And, of course, he starts, so we all have to match his enthusiasm.”

Ren’s level of enthusiasm for wooing women goes beyond anyone’s, so Otoya can imagine why Tokiya is peeved. “How bad was it?” he asks, leaning back slightly so that he can work his fingers into Tokiya’s tense shoulders. 

“I thought for a second Kurosaki-san was going to walk off the stage.”

Over the top then. “Did you have to kiss her on the hand or on the cheek?” Otoya tries not to be jealous at these, because he’s had to do them too (although he’s fairly good at distracting the audience in order to get out of them), but he hates thinking about it. It’s partially because he knows how bad he feels after he has to do one, and he knows that Tokiya feels the same way, if not more strongly about it than Otoya does. If there’s one thing that Tokiya is, it’s fiercely loyal, and just getting voluntary touches from Tokiya is a big deal. Being forced into it by a stunt from Ren is almost like a personal insult.

“The hand, thank god. Kurosaki-san went second, and he was frosty enough that I could pull back a little.”

Otoya pulls Tokiya’s hand back towards him, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles, and then another when Tokiya is still tense. “At least Masa wasn’t there. You know it’s always worse when he is.”

“They can leave us out of their flirting,” Tokiya says grumpily. Otoya tries to restrain his laugh and fails, and Tokiya shivers. 

Otoya waits until he can feel the tension drain from his blue-haired boyfriend before he pulls him out of the bathtub. Tokiya is warm and boneless, even as Otoya dries him off with a towel. He just inclines his head down so that it’s easier to get to his hair and Otoya is gentle as he works his fingers through the wet locks. Tokiya’s hair is the most gorgeous color that Otoya thinks he’s ever seen. When it’s wet, it’s so dark that it looks like the night sky without stars, but as it dries, it’s a bit like watching the sunrise and the first hints of light hit the darkness. Tokiya is the dawn, a promise of the sun to come. 

Admittedly, Otoya’s a little tired. Usually these sorts of sweeping romantic statements are Tokiya’s thing.

Once Tokiya is dry, Otoya sends him out to use the hair dryer so that he can get dry. He’s freezing at this point, the water having turned cold on his skin long ago, but it’s worth it for Tokiya. Besides, when he emerges from the bathroom, Tokiya motions to the stool in front of the mirror and dries Otoya’s hair too. He always does, no matter how tired he is. Otoya gives him a kiss to thank him when he’s done and then ushers him into bed. As he always does when he’s this tired, Tokiya rolls into him as soon as he gets under the covers. He rests his face in the crook of Otoya’s neck. 

Part one of coaxing Tokiya to sleep is complete.

Part two always comes a couple of hours later, and Otoya thinks for a moment that he’s slept through it when he opens his eyes and there’s light in the room. Tokiya is sitting up, his bedside lamp on and a book propped open on his knees. A quick glance at the clock reveals that they’ve been asleep for an hour and a half, not nearly long enough unless they’ve somehow managed to sleep twenty-five and a half hours.

Otoya doubts it though.

This is part two, where Tokiya catches a very quick catnap and then proceeds to pretend he’s not tired so that he can cram in some of the things he’s missed doing the last few weeks. This morning’s hobby is apparently reading, although he’s tried this one before and Otoya watched him try to read the same sentence for almost a half hour before convincing him to lie back down. Seeing as Tokiya hasn’t flipped a page in the few minutes Otoya’s been watching him, it looks like the same situation.

Otoya gives an exaggerated yawn, making sure to draw Tokiya’s attention before crawling over to him and laying his head on his boyfriend’s shoulder. “What are you reading?” he asks, making sure to keep his tone casual. If Tokiya starts getting defensive, he’ll stress himself out, so Otoya has to be just a little pushier than normal but still subtle.

Luckily, tired Tokiya is about as observant as a blind man, so it’s not too hard.

“A history of the Tokugawa Shogunate.” Otoya doesn’t miss how Tokiya has to peek surreptitiously at the cover before he answers. The book sounds so boring that Otoya contemplates leaving him alone to finish it but Tokiya has endless patience for boring stuff, so he scraps that idea.

“Is it interesting?”

“It’s . . . fine.” Tokiya has made the mistake of looking down at him, and Otoya does his best to appear irresistible, even though he’s honestly not sure what Tokiya sees in him during these moments. He makes his eyes wide and hides his concern behind the façade of interest he puts on for the history book. Tokiya swallows, and Otoya lets his gaze drop down to the Adam’s apple that is centimeters away from his face, watching it bob. There is always a flutter in his chest whenever he can tell that something he has done has aroused Tokiya, and he reminds himself that this is to wear out his roommate, not get carried away.

That doesn’t stop him from murmuring Tokiya’s name as affectionately as he can and tilting his head up so that their lips just barely brush. As pushy as he has to be, he still wants to make sure that Tokiya is into this. The tongue that slides across the seam of his mouth before their lips are fused together is enough of an answer for him. He shifts so that he’s leaning over Tokiya, one arm on either side of his torso to support him as he sweeps his tongue over the ridge in Tokiya’s hard palate. The pleased moan he elicits is enough to make him shiver in pride, but then there is the way that his boyfriend fists his hands in the back of Otoya’s shirt to pull him closer that reminds him how long it’s been since they’ve had a few minutes alone like this. He tips Tokiya back onto the bed, and the way his dark hair sprawls out on the pillow looks like Masato’s calligraphy, ink against snow white paper.

He wouldn’t be feeling quite this ravenous if Tokiya wasn’t so adamant about perfection for every live performance to the point that it starts to affect their personal lives, but Otoya supposes he wouldn’t love the man quite as much if he didn’t. Tokiya has never met a piece he hasn’t had to work at, and Otoya knows that the illusion of effortless success is expertly crafted. In fact, it’s quite the expression of trust when he shows how much he actually has to work at it, so Otoya can’t mind it too much.

Besides, Tokiya with that little crease between his furrowed eyebrows is honestly delectable, even if he’s not allowed to touch during those times.

Tokiya gives a high-pitched whine when Otoya starts to nip at his neck. He’s almost at falsetto already. “Otoya,” he murmurs at the tail end of a gasp, breathless and silent. Tokiya is so talented with his voice that it’s a treat to play with the noises he can make. 

But now’s not the time, Otoya has to remind himself. Now is not the time, even though he wants to take hours to kiss and bite and suck over every inch of Tokiya’s body to explore the reactions he can elicit, even though he knows that this level of fatigue is the only time that Tokiya ever _begs_ for release with shuddering breaths. He can do that tomorrow evening, when Tokiya is rested and a little more energetic than arching his back and clutching at Otoya’s shirt. Otoya’s not entirely sure that his shirt is going to survive much more, honestly, but he doesn’t care enough to stop what he’s doing.

He continues to kiss his way down the column of Tokiya’s throat, his hands working on divesting Tokiya of his shirt so that he can proceed lower. His knee slips between Tokiya’s legs. He is doing everything he can think of to drive Tokiya crazy, and it’s working, based on the way Tokiya grinds against his thigh. The sounds coming from his mouth are more like mewls and Otoya isn’t sure if this is just a show that Tokiya is putting on for him or whether this is real because he’s being driven crazy right back. He braces his left arm above Tokiya’s shoulder and frantically captures his lips in a kiss. As soon as he feels like he has his balance, he reaches into Tokiya’s pants. He is so hard, and at the first touches, he wrenches his head away to let out the neediest sound Otoya can ever remember hearing him make. “Otoya,” he whimpers again, and if there was any question that the man was meant to make music, it is resolved here, in this moment, because it’s the most beautiful sound that Otoya’s ever heard. 

He doesn’t even care if he gets off at this moment; he’ll jerk off in the bathroom if he has to. He just needs to see Tokiya fall apart in his hands. It’s not even a matter of pride, but a need so strong that he’s not sure exactly where it’s coming from, much like the protective tug in his chest whenever Tokiya hasn’t slept in a few days or the overwhelming warmth that floods his entire body whenever Tokiya says something horrifically cheesy and then looks away, embarrassed at his own words. He presses another kiss to the column of Tokiya’s throat, using just the lightest scrape of his teeth so that it won’t leave a mark. “I’ve got you,” he says, speeding up his hand. 

Tokiya’s back arches off the bed, and if Otoya had a third hand, he would slide it down to where the tailbone juts out ever so slightly, to help the rhythm of his stuttering hips. Tokiya’s face is flushed, sweat dotting his forehead as his moans become louder and more insistent. It’s almost like he’s trying to communicate something, but whatever it is, he’s not moving his lips enough to enunciate his words understandably. He’s such a mess, and Otoya loves every moment of it.

And then a thrill goes up his spine as he realizes that one of Tokiya’s hands has left the back of his shirt and is scrabbling at him through his pants. Otoya’s brain short-circuits, his mind blanks, and all he can think about is the beautiful man beneath him, not that there was much else in there before. He forgets to be gentle as he yanks Tokiya’s pants and underwear down far enough that they won’t be in the way, and his own are the next to go. 

The lizard part of his brain is telling him to take Tokiya completely, because he wants to feel those firm thighs wrapped around his hips and hear the way that his boyfriend gasps when Otoya slides into him, but the logical part of his brain says that neither of them are going to want to wait for him to be prepared enough to take that and Otoya isn’t going to hurt him no matter how out of his mind he feels. Instead, he wraps his hand around both of them, and Tokiya is warm and hard and his hand isn’t quite big enough to wrap fully, but then he feels soft fingers envelop what he can’t reach. Tokiya’s hands are always so smooth, unlike his guitar-callused ones, and it’s the juxtaposition and the sounds coming from Tokiya’s mouth and the way he twists up to kiss him ravenously that sends Otoya so far over the edge that everything goes white for a few moments and when he comes back to himself, his face is pressed into Tokiya’s shoulder. He can feel Tokiya’s hand on his bare back, and it takes him a full ten seconds to realize his shirt hasn’t ripped, just pushed up across his shoulders.

“I love you,” he says, because it’s the only thing he can think to say through the contented haze in his brain. His body feels so heavy now, even though he knows he needs to get up because he wants to stroke Tokiya’s face, but the hand that isn’t engaged in keeping him from crushing his boyfriend is definitely not clean enough to do that with. 

Tokiya gives a contented hum. He’s already losing the battle against sleep, being dragged down by the rush of warm and fuzzy endorphins. Otoya doesn’t want to have to wake him to move from the spot that is definitely wet, so he forces himself to sit up and strip off his shirt to use as a makeshift towel. It works okay (they’ll both need to shower and wash the sheets in the morning anyways), and then he helps Tokiya out of his stained clothes before guiding him over to the other side of the bed. Tokiya’s eyes are already fluttering shut as his head hits the pillow.

Otoya spends a little more time in the bathroom cleaning himself up, complete with water and an actual towel, and when he returns to the bedroom, part of the blanket is flipped up as if to invite him in, and Tokiya’s hand lazily pats the open space. “Get over here,” he says, sounding almost irritable. 

“Just gotta turn of the lamp first,” Otoya promises. He spares a moment to press a kiss to Tokiya’s forehead before rounding the bed. “You wanted to read, remember?”

The grumble Tokiya gives doesn’t sound much like a grumble at all, probably because of the contented slant of his lips. 

Otoya has no problems getting back to the other side in the dark, and he rests his head on Tokiya’s chest when his boyfriend pulls him down. The tension begins to drain back out of him as he feels a reassuring hand stroke down his back, and he presses a kiss to the exposed skin under his cheek. 

“Love you,” Tokiya whispers in the darkness.

It’s Otoya’s turn to hum this time. He can feel Tokiya’s breaths start to slow as his chest rises and falls, and phase two is over. Phase three is always in the morning, when Tokiya is still out like a light and Otoya leaves early to pick up coffee and Tokiya’s favorite bread so that he can make a passable breakfast before waking up the sleeping man with a kiss so that he doesn’t mess up his sleep schedule too much. 

But that is in the morning. Otoya takes a deep breath and feels Tokiya’s hand tighten on his back. For now, he is exactly where he wants to be, and Tokiya is here, and until the sun rises, this is perfection.


	2. Pirates of the Frontier

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not all exhaustion is physical.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is like six months late, but it's finally done. Apologies for the wait, but this really isn't my kind of thing to write, so I struggled through the difficult parts . . . I'm pretty sure you'll be able to tell where the line is between where I was okay and where I was not. This will definitely be the last time I write smut, at least for a very long time; sorry for anyone who was hoping to see more..
> 
> The novel Tokiya is reading is Malice by Keigo Higashino; I love all of his books, so I would expect more references in the future.
> 
> I swear I don't hate Ranmaru and Camus, they just coincidentally happened to be the most contentious part of either drama . . .

Tokiya can tell by just a word that something is wrong with Otoya. 

“Hey,” he says, and then he goes into the kitchen to rinse his lunchbox so it can be repacked for tomorrow. There’s no bright smile, no cheerful questions about his day, not even a quick kiss on the cheek as he passes. He is silent as he takes care of the tasks he needs to do for the next day.

Tokiya feels a tinge of panic as he wonders if it’s something _he’s_ done, but Otoya notices his concerned stare and musters up a tiny smile, and that’s when it hits Tokiya. Otoya doesn’t get physically exhausted (or, well, he does, but it’s like watching a toy run out of batteries, because he’ll be up one moment and sprawled across the nearest flat surface asleep the next), but if he’s too stressed out, he becomes emotionally exhausted, and it looks a lot like this. Usually he’ll do one of two things next: go into their bedroom and change into clothes for a run if he needs some time alone, or he’ll sit in the same room as Tokiya if he needs to recharge. After the lunchbox is rinsed, Otoya perches on the floor next to Tokiya’s legs, just far enough away to avoid touching him. Tokiya muffles his sigh of relief behind his hand. He hates watching Otoya so upset, but he gets worried when he leaves to be alone. Otoya’s mind can go into some dark places at times. 

Tokiya pretends to keep reading, but his attention is on his exhausted boyfriend. Otoya is like a wounded animal in times like these, and if Tokiya comes on too strong, he’ll bolt. “How was your day?” he asks instead, tamping down his desire to sweep the love of his life up in his arms and not let go until he sees one of those gorgeous megawatt smiles.

Otoya gives a noncommittal noise, which tells Tokiya all he needs to know. Otoya’s newest live show is a pirate drama with Camus and Ranmaru, and at least during Joker Trap, Tokiya had Ren to help mitigate some of the arguments. Otoya is alone between the two all day, and that innate desire to help always comes out whenever things start going badly, but the two Quartet Night idols can’t be reasoned with at times like that, even by the leader of STARISH. 

Of course, Otoya takes this as a sign that he’s doing something wrong and failing to keep the two in check all day has to be exhausting on its own. The crushing weight of the self-doubt on top of that would take anyone down. Otoya is not a god, he isn’t unaffected by his own fears, and he’s always had a bit of a complex about STARISH dropping him for some minor imperfection anyways, so this has to be wearing on him a lot.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks, keeping his eye on the bowed red head. 

Otoya shakes his head no. He does shift a little closer though, and Tokiya can feel the heat of Otoya’s arm through his pant leg. He moves it a little closer too in encouragement before he starts talking about his day. He’s been working on Polaris with Natsuki and Cecil, and it’s been an interesting experience, to say the least. Both of them are a lot more happy-go-lucky than he is, so the times on set are rarely tense. It’s been a nice change.

As he talks, Otoya starts to loosen up. Tokiya can see his shoulders fall and his head moves to rest on Tokiya’s thigh, which allows him to start running his hand through thick red hair. Otoya stiffens at first, but he allows it, and by the time Tokiya’s talked about how his day wrapped up, Otoya is leaning on him fully. He hums in response to anything he’s asked, but it’s not until Tokiya asks whether he wants to hear about the book he’s reading that Otoya turns his head to look at him.

“Yeah,” he says, and his voice sounds tight. Tokiya can’t help the flare of anger towards Ranmaru and Camus.

“Come up here,” he coaxes, and he holds out his hand for Otoya to take. Once he’s up, Tokiya swings his legs onto the couch and helps Otoya sit between them. He wraps his arms around the redhead tightly, reassured when Otoya melts into him. He presses a kiss to Otoya’s temple for good measure before he starts talking about his book. It’s another mystery, this time about a writer who had died just hours before he was supposed to move to Vancouver. He talks all about the lack of witnesses and the conflict the writer had with the sister of a man he had written about, and the amount of detail he goes into is probably enough to rewrite the book.

It neither surprises nor insults Tokiya when Otoya’s head lolls back against his shoulder, revealing closed eyes and soft, even breathing. His voice always seems to calm the redhead, and he’s talked Otoya down from nightmares before so a little emotional distress is nothing in comparison. He just presses another kiss into his hair and takes his book off of the end table so that he can resume reading. 

He keeps one arm around his boyfriend’s waist to keep him from an uncomfortable position, although it’s kind of moot when Otoya stirs just enough to readjust to leaning against the center of Tokiya’s chest, his head pressed into Tokiya’s chin. His sleep seems restless, so Tokiya starts to read aloud, and that puts him back into a calm slumber.

Tokiya’s not sure if it’s physically possible to love someone this much, but the way his heart feels like it’s swelling in his chest might kill him. His own throat feels tight, but it’s with positive emotions, and he’s glad this feeling hasn’t gone away yet because it makes him appreciate Otoya that much more. He spent so many years miserable and upset at the world, and Otoya has become his little slice of happiness that he knows will always be there. But these moments, where Tokiya can give back and he _knows_ he helps, makes him treasure the bond they have. They are partners, friends, and lovers, but more than anything, they’re there for each other. 

Otoya dozes for about as long as it takes for Tokiya’s throat to go completely dry as he reads out loud, and when he wakes, he snuggles in closer, one hand keeping Tokiya’s arm around his waist. He offers up a shy smile when Tokiya looks down at him. Tokiya can’t help but press a kiss to the light smattering of freckles across his nose. “Feeling any better?” he asks.

Otoya nods. “Thank you.” His voice is quieter than the volume Tokiya was reading at.

Tokiya doesn’t even bother replying to that; it’s nothing to thank him for. Otoya is always there for him without complaining. Tokiya’s just doing the same. Instead, he offers his hand. “Dinner?” he asks.  
Otoya offers up another smile and takes his hand.

Cooking dinner has always been something they do together when they have time. It’s more Tokiya cooking and Otoya watching, but there’s something about Otoya’s garnet eyes watching him as he flits around the kitchen that makes everything feel like home. It’s warm and soft, and he makes sure to put on music in the background so that they can both sing along to it. He makes curry because, well, it’ll make Otoya happiest and he can compromise his strict diet for one night, even if that plugsuit for Polaris gives him mild anxiety (the fit leaves zero to the imagination, which will undoubtedly thrill Otoya when he sees it eventually). Besides, when he sets it aside to simmer, he holds his hand out to Otoya again.

“Dance with me?”

Tokiya’s done this before, and he can tell that Otoya’s not completely up to par yet because it usually earns him such a bright smile that he has to look away, but the shy smile he does get is more than enough for him. He pulls the redhead to his feet with his left hand and slides his right around Otoya’s waist. “I think you know the steps,” he murmurs Otoya’s ear, and that earns him a chuckle. Otoya is a better dancer than he is.

“I’ll let you lead,” is the response.

He opts for a simple box step, nothing that either one of them has to think too hard about. The first song that comes up is slow, and he flushes when he realizes it’s his own voice singing FOREVER LULLABY, which was one of the songs he’d recorded for Otoya for their first Christmas as a couple. The songs on that CD were sweet, and from the heart, but they’re embarrassing to hear, even if he knows Otoya has them play on repeat. 

But then Otoya cuddles up to him, and how embarrassed he might be is the last thing on his mind. He can feel the rise and fall of Otoya’s chest and the heat of their bodies together and how Otoya’s hair tickles his chin as he rests his head on Tokiya’s shoulder, and all of it makes him smile with the gentle warmth that blooms inside of him. He can’t help but sing along with the chorus, quietly into his boyfriend’s ear.

_“If you cry into a cold wind_

_I’ll hold you, so come back to me_

_Just the sound of your laughter_

_Makes me happy; Forever, you are my smile.”_

The words are just as true today as they were five years ago, and he settles his hand on the small of Otoya’s back as they rock back and forth. Otoya’s hand tightens in his shirt and he presses his face into Tokiya’s neck. Their clasped hands clutch to each other as if they’re never going to let go, and if Tokiya has his way, they never will. He wants to stay forever in this moment. 

Well, maybe not this moment itself. He wants to choose a moment where they’re both deliriously happy. Maybe after they retire as STARISH, he’ll finally be honest with himself and admit that he wants to marry the man holding him. Maybe that will be the moment they can stay in forever.

They slow their tempo with the music, eventually coming to a stop. Tokiya eases away from Otoya, his hands coming between them to cup the redhead’s face. His cheeks are wet. Tokiya presses a kiss to his forehead and wipes away the tears.

And then the stereo changes songs to Dekiai Temptation, and the tension breaks, making them both laugh. Otoya’s eyes are still watery, but the smile he gives is dazzling. 

Tokiya tugs him back into his arms to dance again. He’s sure he used these moves as Hayato, but Otoya giggles and that makes it all okay. They spin and twirl around and it’s sloppy but it’s fun. They’re not worried about their precision or how well their steps match up. Tokiya sneaks kisses whenever Otoya gets close enough, and between his gasping breaths and laughs, Otoya beams. At the end of Dekiai Temptation, Tokiya dips his boyfriend low, chuckling when Otoya squeaks. 

He’ll have to thank Reiji later. His begrudging admiration for his senior’s song has suddenly increased.

“Are you dizzy?” he quips, referring to the last line of the song.

“Tokiyaaaaaa!” As soon as Tokiya sets him back upright, Otoya huffs, but it’s more flustered than irritated. His face is flushed, probably from his laughter and lack of breath. 

Tokiya just cocks an eyebrow and then as soon as the next song starts, sweeps Otoya across the kitchen again before he can protest. 

Between the exercise and the whimsical nature of it all, Otoya seems to finally come back to himself. He challenges Tokiya’s lead, bumping their hips together lightly and spinning them around when Tokiya is between steps. It becomes less of a dance and more of a competition, and Tokiya feels the tendrils of relief begin to wash over him as it becomes more and more apparent that Otoya isn’t just going to go along with what he’s doing. They have a relationship of challenging each other, of pushing each other to greater heights; Otoya isn’t submissive to him. 

Tokiya releases Otoya’s torso to try to spin him, and the redhead fights it, using the hand that’s wrapped around Tokiya’s shoulder to twine around his neck as he steps in for a kiss instead. It’s strong and needy and Tokiya immediately twines his free hand in the hair at the back of Otoya’s head to keep him there. They’re both a touch too aggressive, and their teeth clash when they try to nip at the other’s lip at the same time.

Otoya chuckles as Tokiya rests their foreheads together. It’s a breathy little sound that makes the corners of Tokiya’s mouth curl up involuntarily. He kisses the tip of Otoya’s nose, laughing when it wrinkles in reflex, and then his forehead. 

“Hey, Tokiya?”

“Hm?” He pauses for only a moment before he resumes raining kisses over Otoya’s face.

“Thanks.” 

Tokiya pecks his lips. “You don’t have to thank me. I’d much rather see you smiling, so it’s self-serving for me as well.”

Otoya’s mouth quirks into a wry grin. “I forget how selfish you are sometimes,” he jokes. 

Tokiya leans down to kiss him again, but they’re interrupted by the timer going off. It’s always so hard to estimate time with curry, since the kitchen has smelled like curry rice ever since he added the roux. Tokiya goes to serve them plates while Otoya pours them glasses of water and sets the table. Once they break chopsticks, they dig in.

Even if Tokiya isn’t particularly fond of curry rice (he doesn’t have anything against it, but he’s not sure what Otoya sees in it that’s so good), he can admit that it always tastes better when they cook and eat it together. In fact, he’s not entirely sure he actually tastes his own plate because he’s too busy staring at his boyfriend who is happily chowing down on the other side of the table. He only gives a few reminders to eat some of the pickled cucumbers and kinpira renkon, but really, the curry is for him, so Tokiya can’t complain if that’s what he’s focused on.

Even with Otoya’s appetite, Tokiya’s lived around him for long enough to know how much to make for extras, and he packages them both leftover containers to take to work tomorrow after they finish their meal. Otoya insists on doing the dishes, and Tokiya turns the stereo back on while he watches. It doesn’t take him long to finish—curry is a simple dish—and once he does, he holds out his hand, mimicking what Tokiya had done before. “Dance with me?” he asks.

Tokiya allows himself to be pulled into the middle of the kitchen, and he’s not particularly surprised when Otoya’s arms both snake around his back rather than getting into closed position to dance again. “This doesn’t seem like much of a dance,” he says lightly.

Otoya smiles and kisses him like he had earlier, desperate and hard. Tokiya can feel his fingers fist the fabric of his shirt. He seems wound up still, even if he is smiling and acting normal again. He’s setting a fast pace, which Tokiya wouldn’t normally argue with, but doesn’t seem to be what he needs right now. Tokiya ignores his own desires, which are begging him to back Otoya up against the nearest wall, and breaks their kiss.

“Slow,” he murmurs. He cups Otoya’s jaw in his hands and then gently presses their lips together again. “There’s no rush.”

He kisses Otoya several times chastely, their connection never lasting more than a second. The redhead is trying, and Tokiya can feel it as Otoya’s hands clutch at his waist like he’s trying to get affection in any way he can. Tokiya strokes his thumb over the tanned cheek to try to soothe him.

“I’m not going anywhere,” he promises. “There’s no need to hurry.”

Otoya struggles for so long that Tokiya almost gives up, but when his shoulders eventually slump, he lets out a deep breath between kisses. “Tokiya,” he says, and it’s somewhere between a resigned whine and a plea. Tokiya takes pity on him and this time kisses him long, but still slow. His hands trail downwards, brushing over clothed muscle as they dip along the contours of Otoya’s body. He takes his time and savors it. 

“I’m here,” he says when they part. “I’m right here.”

This time when Otoya kisses him, it’s languid, even if it still has the edge of desperation. He tugs Tokiya’s shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants, pushing it up so that his hands can grab at the skin beneath it. Tokiya can’t help the hitch in his breath. 

“I need you.” Otoya’s voice is low and quiet.

“I’m here.” He’ll say it as many times as Otoya needs to hear it. He takes Otoya’s hand and leads him through their apartment, shutting off the lights of the kitchen and walking into the bedroom. They have plenty of time tonight; even though Tokiya had wanted to get some practice in with his script, and he’s fairly sure Otoya had intended the same, this is more important. _Otoya_ is more important.

He waits until Otoya is seated before straddling him. Their height difference is more pronounced now, and Tokiya has to lean down to kiss him, but it gives him just the little bit of control he needs to keep their pace unhurried. Otoya gropes handfuls of skin under his shirt, calluses brushing against sensitive skin. He lets a tiny whimper slip from his lips in encouragement before they separate. Tokiya pulls Otoya’s t-shirt over his head and tosses it in the direction of the laundry basket. It doesn’t quite make it, but he’s not willing to compromise the mood to fix it. Instead, his hands go back to wandering over Otoya’s chest. He traces the muscles and skates his fingers over the hard planes. Otoya is beautiful, tanned and toned. He doesn’t let a single inch of skin escape his grasp, even when he turns his attention away to kiss down Otoya’s neck. Otoya just grinds his hips upwards, trying to create friction as his hands keep Tokiya’s thighs tight against his hips.

There’s still a large part of Tokiya that can’t believe this beautiful, beautiful man is his, let alone that Otoya _needs_ him. “Mine,” he can’t help but say when a whine echoes from deep inside Otoya’s throat. He can feel the vibration against his lips. He feels aroused and upset and protective all at once, but it’s all eclipsed by the need to remind Otoya who he can always come home to. He’ll deal with the rest of it later. 

“Tokiya—”

“—Mine,” he says, more insistently this time. Otoya’s hips roll up against him again, but he’s not as tense. The careful, slow exploration has made him melt, and when he looks up at Tokiya, his garnet eyes look a little dazed. 

He captures one of Otoya’s hands in his, pressing kisses against the fingertips before lacing their fingers together and pushing Otoya back onto the white duvet. He always looks so good against white, with his tanned skin and red hair vivid against the stark bedspread. Tokiya lets his eyes feast until Otoya’s free arm snakes around his neck and pulls him down for another kiss. “Don’t tell me you’re just going to stare all night,” he complains, his voice deep and rough.

“And if I am?” 

Otoya’s lower lip slips out from beneath the top in a pout that makes Tokiya snicker. 

“I won’t. I’m just not in a rush. What is there to rush for?”

He can feel Otoya’s hands toy with the strands of his hair on the back of his head as his eyes avert, and he looks away shyly. Tokiya waits. Finally, Otoya swallows. “You.”

“Me?”

“I . . . you . . .” Otoya stutters for a moment. The hand in his hair has slid down to rest on the skin of his neck. “I don’t want you to go.”

He ignores the fact that drawing this out would logically make him stay longer if he were going to leave and instead focuses on the matter at hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“I just . . . feel like I’m not doing enough. And then you’ll leave.”

Tokiya leans down to kiss him lightly as a reward for his candidness before he shifts off of Otoya. The movement causes panic, as he can feel the redhead clutch at his thighs as if to stop him, but he rests his head on Otoya’s shoulder and curls up against his right side as well as he can. Their left hands are still intertwined, and Tokiya rests them on Otoya’s sternum. “I’m not leaving. Definitely not because of a bad practice at work, but I’m not leaving regardless.”

“Everyone else is just working so hard, and we can’t get through ten minutes of practice without an argument.”

Tokiya makes a mental note to talk to Reiji about his bandmates and strokes over their joined hands with his thumb. “Kurosaki-senpai and Camus-senpai aren’t easy to work with. But that’s not because of you.”

“You and Ren got through Joker Trap with no problem.”

Tokiya snorts. “Our rehearsals for Joker Trap were a disaster. If it wasn’t them fighting, Ren was riling someone up, myself included, and believe me, there were a lot of days I didn’t think we were going to get out on that stage. But we did it. You’ve just got to hold on. They’ll figure themselves out. It’s like Ren and Masato. They fight, but they get it together in the end.”

Otoya gives a tiny noise of doubt, and Tokiya shifts onto an elbow to kiss Otoya’s cheek. “You’re doing great. I know how hard you’re working. If you give it your all, it’s going to come together. Just trust it.”

Otoya looks down at him. “’Just trust it’ are words that I never thought I’d hear you say,” he says with a healthy dose of skepticism in his voice.

“Ren may have said something of the sort.”

That elicits a snort. “You took advice from Ren?”

“Questionable source, I know,” he agrees. He leans up to kiss Otoya lightly. “So why don’t you trust me instead?”

“I always do,” Otoya says.

That earns him another kiss, and Tokiya shifts back to their previous position, straddling Otoya’s torso between his knees. “In that case, why don’t you trust me to show you just how much you do for me?” He presses wet kisses down Otoya’s neck, earning soft whimpers when he scrapes his teeth against the skin. “When I’m done with you, you won’t have any doubts at all.”

“Tokiya,” Otoya murmurs, and Tokiya gives him one more kiss before devoting all of the attention to the task. He trails his lips over every inch of exposed skin, and Otoya shivers whenever he exhales. His breath puffs in and out in short little bursts, getting heavier as Tokiya’s mouth trails downwards along his body.

Otoya’s body is a masterpiece. It’s the result of hard work and excellent sportsmanship, a culmination of athleticism all for him to devour. His tongue laves over the hardened, pink nipples and dips into Otoya’s navel. He’s prepared when Otoya raises his hand to make him pause, catching the palm and taking the index finger into his mouth. Otoya’s hips almost immediately buck upwards in response.

“You don’t have to—” Otoya tries to say, but Tokiya takes this moment to rid him of his pants rather than listen to his protests. The newly revealed skin is more sensitive, and he takes pride in every squirm, every sharp intake of breath as he explores Otoya’s inner thighs. The strangled gasp Otoya makes when he nips at the junction of his left thigh makes him suck on the area and leave a blemish, but if anyone manages to see it, Tokiya thinks they’ll be far too close. 

Otoya is soft and pliable, but the second Tokiya presses a kiss against his tip, he tenses, his entire body arching upwards. Tokiya takes the opportunity to slide his hands upwards, fingertips massaging his inner thighs as he kisses along the length.

Otoya’s head is tipped back, moans sliding between his lips at every touch. They abruptly change pitch when Tokiya takes him into his mouth. His tongue slides along the ridges and veins, slow and deliberate as he eases down centimeter by centimeter. He’s going to take it slow, despite how Otoya sounds like he could burst any second. And if he does, well, perhaps he can show how much he appreciates Otoya’s constant determination and just keep going.

The second that he makes it down to the base, he bobs back and does it again, hollowing his cheeks and making Otoya wail. He’s breathing heavy, his chest rapidly rising and falling, and there’s a hand in Tokiya’s hair now. Otoya never pulls it until the end (even when Tokiya wishes he might), but his grip is already tight, matching how his body is pulled taut like a wire. Tokiya savors all of the reactions he can pull from his boyfriend, unable to resist a satisfied purr and making Otoya cry out even higher. He’s so close; Tokiya can feel his trembling muscles as he slides his hands up to Otoya’s hips. It will only take a little more, and he contemplates playing with Otoya a little before deciding that he deserves a release. He takes Otoya completely in his mouth once more and swallows around him. The hand in his hair tightens, and when he does it once more, ignoring Otoya’s shouted warning, is rewarded with a sharp thrust of the hips that brings moisture to his eyes and a mouthful that he swallows down as soon as it hits his throat. 

He’d usually wash out his mouth with the water they keep by the bed at this point, but he didn’t really plan for this, so he does his best to run his tongue over his teeth before he kisses Otoya on the mouth again. He’s a mess, white splattered across his stomach (and parts of Tokiya’s face), his chest heaving with how hard he’s breathing, and his eyes unfocused and hazy even as he kisses Tokiya back. He is boneless and spent, although he holds Tokiya close when he tries to pull away to clean Otoya up. “You’re not going anywhere,” he murmurs, already starting to regain his strength. 

“Still need more reassurance?” Tokiya asks, slightly concerned.

“No, I need _you_.”

The words send a shiver down Tokiya’s spine, and he kisses Otoya again, unsurprised when he can feel Otoya’s hands scrabbling at his belt. “Lube,” he reminds Otoya when the redhead whines at him moving away. He grabs the small bottle and a condom from the bedside table and resumes his position once again, hesitating when he realizes he’s not sure how Otoya wants to do this. 

All indecision is pulled from his mind when Otoya pulls him down for another kiss, and whispers “fuck me,” against his lips when they part. 

He prepares Otoya carefully, minding his overstimulated whines and distracting him with peppered kisses over his shoulders. Meanwhile, Otoya seems to be determined to distract Tokiya, because the second his warm, rough hand touches Tokiya’s bare skin, it’s like his brain clears of all thoughts. He hasn’t given a thought to his own arousal, aided by his focus on Otoya, but now it’s at the forefront of his mind. It causes his fingers to spread just a little wider, his thrusts just a little rougher, kisses a little more desperate. It’s suddenly torture to wait that long, and judging by the way Otoya’s free hand curls into his shoulder, fingernails digging into the flesh, it’s the same for him too. As soon as he feels like Otoya is wide enough, he positions himself between his legs, laces their fingers together, and pushes in.

He’s warm and tight and for a moment, Tokiya forgets how to breathe as he looks down at Otoya’s wide eyes and parted lips. He stops, mindful of Otoya and doesn’t move again until Otoya’s hips angle up more towards his to push him in another centimeter. There are no tears, but Otoya does groan, so there’s some discomfort, and he nuzzles at Otoya’s face and neck and anything else he can reach until that goes away. Otoya’s fingers squeeze his, his hands trapped against the mattress as they are. 

“Move,” is the eventual command, and Tokiya does just that, trying to make his movements smooth and controlled until Otoya is used to it. He goes a little deeper on each thrust, until they’re connected together at the base and Otoya’s legs are wrapped around Tokiya’s hips. 

“I told you I wasn’t going anywhere,” Tokiya can’t help but say, his voice wavering in his own pleasure. 

“I can feel you,” is Otoya’s breathless reply. 

“Can you?” Tokiya drops down to one elbow, sliding his weight to his right side and being mindful of Otoya’s moans as he brings Otoya’s hand down to where they’re joined. He can feel fingers brush against his pelvis, feeling around the area as a small smile lights across his face.

“I can,” he says before his grin turns mischievous. “I guess I’ll just have to trust you.”

Tokiya’s reaction to that is just to redistribute his weight, recapture Otoya’s hand, and thrust back into him with a little more force.

They are connected, Tokiya can feel as he kisses Otoya again. Their pace is suddenly fast and frantic, eliciting soft exhales and groans from the man below him even as he angles his hips to push as much of Tokiya inside himself as he can. The sounds of their union are loud, but Otoya quickly drowns them out with his hard breathing and whines. He’s so loud, but every moan only adds to Tokiya’s desire. 

Otoya begins to beg, a neverending stream of words that are only half-intelligible, and Tokiya can feel how tight he is. His face is flushed, spreading all the way down to his chest, warm breath fanning over Tokiya’s face as he gasps for air, his eyes unfocused but still locked on Tokiya’s. He’s so beautiful, perfection incarnate underneath him, and the familiar tension coils low in his belly. Before he can warn Otoya, everything tightens around him, and his vision goes white, his own garbled words going unheard.

When he comes to, he’s collapsed on top of Otoya, who doesn’t seem to have noticed the extra weight on him considering how his face is turned into Tokiya’s neck. His chest is still heaving, and it’s so hard to roll off of him, but he does, pulling him close once he’s back on the mattress. Otoya’s fingers dig into his back as he cuddles into Tokiya’s chest, obviously basking in the post-orgasm glow if the smile on his face is any indication. 

“I don’t have any doubts,” he says after a minute.

“Huh?”

“You said after you were done, I wouldn’t have any doubts.”

Tokiya can’t help his chuckle. “Who says I’m done?”

Otoya’s eyes go wide, and the chuckle morphs into a full laugh as he gently disengages Otoya from himself to get something to clean them up with. He’s not expecting Otoya to roll to his feet with him, watching as Tokiya pulls out a towel from the bathroom and wets it to wipe his skin clean. 

“You know,” he says when Tokiya approaches him with it. “Maybe I do need some more reassurance.”

Tokiya exhales loudly. “You need more?” he asks incredulously. 

Otoya giggles, and it’s a wonderful sound to hear. “I could probably be reassured with a shower,” he says, and Tokiya rolls his eyes but leads them into the hallway. 

If Tokiya has his way, Otoya would laugh like this all the time, but then again, that’s what he’s there for; he’ll always be there to bring Otoya back to himself, he promises. No matter how many showers it takes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really glad if you enjoyed this, but please don't leave comments; I won't be responding to them. c:


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